


Storied Past

by Caelum_Blue



Series: Kataang Week 2020 [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Blizzards & Snowstorms, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fur, Gen, Genocide (Mentioned), Hunters & Hunting, Kataang Week 2020, Southern Water Tribe, Storytelling, animal attack (mentioned), animal death (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:27:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25548946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caelum_Blue/pseuds/Caelum_Blue
Summary: Written for Kataang Week 2020. Prompt - Keeping Warm.There’s a blizzard at the South Pole, and the Water Tribe has traditions.
Relationships: Aang & Southern Water Tribe, Aang/Katara (Avatar)
Series: Kataang Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1851361
Comments: 24
Kudos: 92





	Storied Past

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! So after doing Azula Week earlier this month I was like "Oh yeah I feel like I could manage Kataang Week too!" so this is that. We'll see how it goes. Fair warning - I am not much of a shipper. I do like Kataang, a lot, but writing romance is kinda...eh. So expect me to use this week more as an excuse for character exploration and worldbuilding than actual shipfic, lol. You have no idea how many times I started to write “oral tradition” in and then had to slap my wrist like NO this is a SHIPPING WEEK and if you use that phrase people will assume it’s mature and then be disappointed when it isn’t. XD
> 
> Warnings:  
> There's nothing explicit going on here, but we do hear about a past animal attack and said animal's death.
> 
> Enjoy!

Something heavy, furry, and  _ large _ was dumped over Aang’s head, and he sputtered and laughed and breathed in the scent of well-conditioned animal hide even as he extricated himself from the massive fur pelt.  _ “Katara, _ come on, you know I don’t get cold!”

Katara lifted a corner of the fur, flopped down beside him, and flipped the fur back over herself. “It’s a blizzard. Humor me,” she said, eyes sparkling in the light of the fireplace.

“You know I can easily enjoy a snowstorm in nothing but a cape.”

_ “Blizzard, _ not snowstorm,” she said, snuggling up beside him. “I don’t care about your Airbender temperature-regulation abilities, that’s a South Pole blizzard out there. It’s going to get cold by  _ my _ standards.”

“I survived a North Pole blizzard without any extra layers just fine,” Aang chuckled.

“That wasn’t a blizzard, that was a regular old flurry, and you were running on adrenaline,” Katara said, snuggling up to his side. “The city was under siege, you were talking to a spirit that wanted to steal your face, Zuko had captured you  _ again… _ Besides,” she added, grinning up at him, “this is cozy.  _ And _ it’s my favorite blanket, so you should feel honored that I’m feeling gracious enough to share it with you.”

Aang laughed. “Okay, okay, you win.” He wrapped one arm around her. The other he poked out of their warm cocoon to examine the fur she’d wrapped them in. He was always going to be put off by the idea of dead animal skin, but the poles boasted harsh climates that the Water Tribe had perfected living in, and no other material held heat as well as fur did. This one was completely white, the hair coarse but well-cared for, and it was huge. Whatever animal it came from, it had to be enormous. “What is this, anyway?”

“Polar bear-dog,” Hakoda said. He was seated on the floor on the other side of the fireplace, also wrapped in a fur. In his hands he held a piece of whale-walrus tusk, which he carefully examined while a set of carving tools sat nearby, waiting. Kanna sat beside him, closer to the fire, keeping an eye on the labrador tea she was brewing.

“What?” Aang said, looking at the fur with new interest. “I thought you guys said they were too dangerous to hunt!”

“They  _ are,” _ Bato said. He was sitting near Hakoda, removing a broken handle from a knife that needed fixing. “That one was hunting  _ us.” _

Aang stroked the fur - the closest he’d ever gotten to petting an actual polar bear-dog. Well. It  _ was _ an actual polar bear-dog, just. Dead. Which didn’t count. Aang had never met a large animal he didn’t want to ride in his  _ life, _ and his list of accomplishments included hog-monkeys, the unagi, and Zuko’s dragon, but everyone he’d ever spoken to in the Southern Water Tribe - and also everyone he hadn’t - agreed that he should, under no circumstances, ever attempt to ride a polar bear-dog, and had made a point of telling him so. Multiple times. 

Of course he fully intended to try it anyway. What was the worst that could happen?

“So what happened?” he asked. Katara was still curled into his side, and he rested his head on top of hers and waited for the story. The Southern Water Tribe loved a good story, and they had so many of them - so much of their history was passed down in speech, not writing. And that was only partially because of the war - the Fire Nation may have destroyed much of the Southern Tribe’s culture with their attacks, but they’d been passing down their history from generation to generation long before they’d bothered with paper or a writing system. That strong oral tradition had saved so much knowledge that might have been lost otherwise. Now that they had a permanent settlement again, with enough room and resources for record keeping, they were writing things down again, trying to make the knowledge more accessible.

But nothing, Katara insisted, could beat a good story told by loved ones gathered around the fire. And blizzards, she said, were when the tribe hunkered down and enjoyed each other’s company, passing the time by telling stories, or creating art, or sharing food, or fixing things. The wind might howl outside, the snow might pile up, but you were safe and warm inside with your tribe, your family, and everyone would tell stories to help pass the time. 

The wind wasn’t howling outside yet, but it would soon. One of the last things Aang and Katara had done before hunkering down for the storm was take Appa out for a flight. The sky outside was overcast, so they’d flown up, up, up until they’d broken through the clouds and seen blue again. The sky had been a sea of clouds for as far as the eye could see, freezing cold and just waiting to drop snow on the South Pole.

Hakoda hummed and raised his head from the ivory in his hand to look at Bato. “This was decades ago. We were just little kids.”

“Little enough to get snatched up by a polar bear-dog and eaten in three bites,” Bato agreed, removing the last piece of broken knife handle and examining the tang. “When it started prowling around the village that winter, our parents didn’t let us step foot outside alone.”

“It was terrifying,” Kanna joined in. “It’d been a harsh winter. It was bitterly cold, and snowed often, and the animals were getting desperate. The caribou-bison herds were either freezing to death or migrating elsewhere, and the predators were having a hard time finding food. Normally polar bear-dogs prefer to stay in the deep tundra or out on the ice floes, far away from humans, but this one was hungry that winter.” She picked up the teapot and started pouring the tea into waiting cups.

“It prowled around the village for a week,” Hakoda said.

“One of the scariest weeks of my life,” Kanna said. “You were a rambunctious child and you didn’t like being cooped up inside. Your father and I worried you’d wander out the gate and get eaten.”

“I remember seeing its pawprints in the snow,” said Bato. He had two halves of a piece of caribou-bison antler in his hand, already carved into the shape of a handle, and he was fitting them around the knife tang. “It’d circle the village, waiting for its chance. And it would howl.”

Hakoda shuddered. “I remember the howling,” he agreed. “That was awful. You’d be trying to sleep, and all of a sudden that howl would start, and you didn’t feel safe anymore.”

“We had a wall,” Kanna explained to Aang, handing him two cups of labrador tea. He passed the second to Katara. “Not much of one, our Waterbenders had been lost for years at that point. But we did have a snow wall, and we were able to maintain it, and someone was always on watch to scare the beast away when it tried to dig through.”

“Why didn’t it just attack?” Aang asked. He held the teacup beneath his nose for a moment to enjoy the piney, floral scent. Then he used some subtle airbending to manipulate the temperature a few degrees cooler and had a sip. Katara wordlessly held her own cup out, and Aang grinned and repeated the trick for her. She pressed a kiss to his cheek before enjoying her drink.

“It was starving. Weak,” Kanna said, handing another two teacups to Hakoda. “It was looking for an easy meal, not a fight.”

“It almost killed my aunt,” Bato said, putting the knife down to accept the cup Hakoda passed to him. “She went out to get some fresh snow for water, and it almost got her.”

“We decided enough was enough,” Kanna said. Her hands were wrapped around her own teacup now, for the warmth. “We’d hoped it would go away by itself when it saw we wouldn’t be easy prey, but we were its  _ only _ prey. It wasn’t going to leave. So we had to do something.”

Aang nodded, holding back a grimace. His people would never have killed anything if they could help it, but his people could also take their bison herds and fly away from whatever leopard-wolves or jackal-lynxes were stalking them. Life in the Water Tribe was different, as was being hunted by a desperate, determined predator you couldn’t escape. He could respect that.

“One of our most experienced fighters at the time was our former chief, Akkikitok,” Kanna said. “She’d retired a few years before, but even though she was no longer our chief she was still a respected elder and leader. She always put so much thought into the safety and wellbeing of our people.”

“Who was your chief then, if she’d retired and Hakoda was a little kid?” Aang asked.

“My mother’s father,” Katara said.

“Chief Oomailiq,” Hakoda said with a fond smile. “I learned a lot from him.”

“He got re-elected  _ so many times,” _ Katara told Aang proudly.

He chuckled. “Leadership skills run in the family, huh?”

Katara’s grin was fierce.

“We decided we had to do something to protect the village,” Kanna continued the story. “So the next time the polar bear-dog came to the village’s wall, Akkikitok took her spear and her club and went out to either chase it off or fight it.” She grimaced. “She wound up fighting it.”

“Not alone, though,” Aang said, because the Water Tribe never did anything alone.

“Of course not. Our best fighters went out to support her. But she kept the animal’s attention focused on her, and she suffered many wounds before she struck the killing blow.” Kanna sighed. “She didn’t live long after the fight, but she died knowing she’d saved the village, and she considered it a good ending.”

“And that’s why you’re never allowed to ride a polar bear-dog,” Katara said, removing one hand from her teacup to poke Aang.

“Hey,” he laughed. His fingers twiddled with the white fur as he considered the story he’d just been told.

“We kept the fur, of course,” Kanna said. “We considered cutting it up to use in the tribe’s hoods, so everyone could have a piece of Akkikitok’s sacrifice. But it was decided the pelt was too precious - we very rarely kill polar bear-dogs, after all. So it was kept in one piece, and we are grateful for the warmth and comfort it’s provided us over the years.”

Air Nomads held all life as sacred. Aang found it so very comforting that the Water Tribe did too, just...in a different way. Meat was a necessary food group at the poles, furs necessary to keep from freezing to death. But the Water Tribe never took more than they needed, and every animal killed for the tribe was honored and thanked for its sacrifice.

This one had actively tried to harm the tribe, but it was still treated with respect even after death.

“So you use it as a blanket now?” Aang laughed.

Kanna smiled. “Yes, well, we’re practical.” The Southern Water Tribe hadn’t had room for anything frivolous until very recently. Their traditional lifestyle didn’t lend itself well to extraneous possessions to begin with, but decades of running and hiding from the Fire Nation hadn’t helped either.

Hakoda straightened a bit. “Oh,” he said, “we could display it now, though. In town hall.”

Kanna blinked. “Oh,” she said. “We could.” They were all still getting used to the idea of having a centralized government, of having permanent  _ towns _ again.

“It’d be a good place for everyone to see the tribe’s history,” Bato mused. “Including foreign dignitaries.”

“See how important our history still  _ is _ to us,” Hakoda nodded. He looked back at the piece of ivory he hadn’t figured out what to do with yet. “I’ve been considering art displays as well, but that fur is a direct tie to a beloved chief. It’s a good idea.”

Katara watched them all with a flat expression. “I know what story I’m going to tell our children years from now, Aang.”

Aang felt a flutter in his stomach at the thought of him and Katara having  _ children. _ “Yeah?”

“This is the story of how I lost my favorite blanket to a museum display.”

Aang burst out laughing.

“It’s for a good cause, Katara!” Hakoda protested, grinning.

Katara pulled the fur pelt even closer around herself and Aang. “One last time, old friend,” she muttered into the hide.

“I’ll get you a new blanket,” Aang promised. “Bison fur can be  _ really _ warm, and Appa definitely sheds enough for a blanket.”

“Not the same,” Katara huffed. She poked him again. “Your turn. Tell us a story.”

Aang blinked, and then he noticed that Kanna, Hakoda, and Bato were all looking at him expectantly. “Oh,” he said. “Okay. Uh…” He trailed off, thinking. He had lots of stories to share, from before, during, and after the war; it was just a matter of picking which one he felt like telling. Something funny, he thought, after the serious one they’d just told. And something new, which might be tricky - Katara had lived through so many stories with Aang, after all, and her family were already aware of a lot of them. But they’d just shared a piece of their tribe’s history with him - it would only be right to share something of his.

Which meant something from before the iceberg. Before the war.

Talking about his people could be hard. He still did it - the Air Acolytes had questions, and he had to explain his philosophy to  _ so many _ world leaders who just didn’t understand. He tried to keep it abstract, matter-of-fact, but it always hurt, even if only a little.

And oftentimes a lot. There was a distressing number of people who thought that the Air Nomads’ extinction was proof that their beliefs had no value. That there was no room in the world to bring that way of life back, nor any point to it even if the Air Acolytes managed it. It made Aang want to be careful about who he shared something as precious as his people’s memory with.

But the Southern Water Tribe were survivors of the second-worst genocide the world had ever seen. If there was anyone Aang knew would understand - anyone he could feel comfortable talking about his own people and his loss with - it was them.

With that in mind, he recalled an old memory and smiled. “Alright, so back when I was like - seven? eight? - Monk Gyatso and I visited the Western Air Temple. Now there was this nun who lived there, Sister Aditi, and she had this way with animals…”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated. :D
> 
> I’ve always loved how Aang and Katara’s cultures are super different, yet super similar. Air Nomads were vegetarians, while the Water Tribe diet would, by necessity, focus on meat. Both cultures regard life as sacred, though - Air Nomads could just afford to be vegetarian and thus didn’t hunt, while the Water Tribe hunts to survive but also respects the sacrifice of the animals they kill. (I mean I guess that’s not in canon but they’re based on Inuit/Yupik/Native American cultures so we can infer.) Both cultures appear to live pretty sustainably. Annnnd they’ve both suffered a lot from the war. :( The idea of Katara and Aang supporting each other through the rebuilding of their cultures means a lot to me.
> 
> Aang is probably never going to fully appreciate a nice fur like Katara, but he does appreciate how important it is to her culture and her people's way of life. I really like how in the show, neither Aang nor the Water Tribe kids ever rag on each other for their diets. Sokka talks a lot about how much HE eats meat, but he never tells Aang to eat it, nor does Aang tell Sokka he should go vegetarian. They just respect each other. (There is that one time they go to a meat place in the Fire Nation but they were also trying to blend in and they let Aang bow out without comment so I'll let it pass.)
> 
> The story of former chief Akkikitok taking down a polar bear-dog and also Kya's father Oomailiq being another chief (and Hakoda's mentor) are things I first wrote about in my fic Early Birds, but I thought it'd be nice to elaborate here. As far as I can tell, Akkikiktok is Inuit and means "costs little" (cuz I didn't wanna spend forever finding her name lol), and Oomailiq is Inuit for "leader of the boat, whaling captain", friendly reminder that it's tricky verifying Native names on baby name lists so I can't guarantee that.
> 
> Sister Aditi is an Air Nomad OC of mine who I keep meaning to bring in but never have the chance to (she was literally supposed to be in the next chapter of Vintage Gaang, which I haven't updated since 2009). Her name was 100% chosen to mimic noted animal lover and spiritual man St Francis of Assissi. I swear I will use her properly in a fic someday. XD
> 
> I'm on tumblr at caelum-in-the-avatarverse if anyone's interested. Have a great day!


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